Pull Us Through
by Public Displays of Lust
Summary: The cats have a lot to do and a long way to go, but there are still moments in between.


**Notes:** I had quite a few small ideas for Thundercats (2011) fic to go along with various bigger ideas I'm also working on. So, I decided to start this vignette series to gather the small ones up in one place. These stories will generally be missing scenes, codas, offscreen moments, and things of that nature focusing on further exploring the characters and their relationships. I will be updating every week or so. This series will be in continuity with my previous fics "Run Yourself Dry" and "Strength of Conviction" and while you don't have to read those to follow this, it would add context. This first piece takes place during 1x03: "Ramlak Rising."

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**Distance**

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For all her speed, Cheetara had never dreamed of travel. Even when she was a cub, clawing her way up from the slums - making herself useful in any manner she knew how - the farthest she'd ever wished herself was to the upper city. Back then she'd thought: what could there be outside of great Thundera that would matter at all?

Now, what lay outside of dead Thundera, ripe with the acrid stench of fire and death, was all that mattered. It was all they had.

They had traveled for two days thusfar — Lion-O, Tygra, Cheetara, and the two cubs with huge eyes and calculated mewlings — through the barren landscape, following a dying trail. Nothing yet had much recommended the outside world as far as Cheetara was concerned.

They had seen no other cats but for the cubs, and Cheetara could feel that despair weighing on them like a physical thing. Or, at least, on her and Tygra, in shared glances that held for a heartbeat too long. (There were always other outlandish dreams to be had besides those of far-off lands.) Lion-O carried nothing but rage and wouldn't meet her eyes. Everything else had fallen away from him somewhere around the moment Cheetara consecrated King Claudus's pyre, and none of hers or his brother's protestations about waging war or Jaga's final request could make him pick it back up.

Now, Lion-O sat, staring at the fire - forced to a stop by the coming night and nothing else. She doubted he even saw the flickering flame. Across from him, Tygra dozed, a light snore rumbling in his chest and an arm, the one left bare by his scavenged armor, thrown across his eyes. The fire played off of his fur, casting shadows that seemed to make his stripes wax and wane. Ranged between them, Cheetara watched the cubs mumbling quietly as they attempted to find a comfortable spot. Once they had, and settled into a small pile of scrawny limbs and bushy tails, she broke the silence.

"Have you any idea how far until we reach the sand sea?" she asked quietly.

Lion-O did not look up. "All my maps were destroyed in the attack along with everything else," he grunted. "If we keep moving forward, we'll hit it."

She shifted towards him, just a hair. His eyes didn't leave the flame; his scent had taken on a sharper edge than she'd ever known it to have before.

"And if we don't?"

"Then we'll find another way!" His voiced had dropped to a near growl, and his brow was furrowed. It didn't make him look any older.

"Yeah, great plan," sneered Tygra, under his breath, and only then did Cheetara realize the soft sound of his snoring had stopped as soon as she spoke.

Lion-O cast a scathing look at his brother; the fur along his arms puffed up.

"It's the only one we have, just like I'm the only king you have. So get used to it."

He got up then, in a flurry of cloak, and muttered about patrolling the area. The Sword of Omens gleamed at his side as he set off, fist tight on its hilt. Cheetara exhaled heavily. She could feel Tygra's eyes on her as surely as she could the heat of the fire, though she did not turn to him.

"He needs time," she said, though it was obvious. Tygra had lost all that Lion-O had.

She heard him moving, the slide of his legs as he shifted them beneath him, the click of his claws on some part of the hard metal of his armor. Cheetara waited. He did not come closer. Still, the smell of him rose around her.

"We don't have time," he said at last.

Cheetara pulled up her hood against a non-existent chill, and sat with her arms around her knees. She held on tight; she held herself still - held herself in.

"I know."


End file.
